Qeya River things change, rearrange, or so do i

she'd done it.

after an entire fuckwhile of thankless slaving away, she'd finally done it.

it was some sort of deercalf she'd caught, and took two whole-ass days to haul over from the fields. it was battered and stale now, but fuck- the brute felt as if she could sell whiskers to a cat.

her tail began wagging as soon as she caught a trace of that naw-tea-quick scent, and her stiff-necked dragging quickened.

diesel finally stood on the border, excitement spiced with dread. fucking fuck, this was it. this would buy her a spot among pond-eyes' folk, so she wouldn't need spend another winter romancing frostbite and getting snow up her--

jumping onto her hindlegs, the dog gave a booming bark. this was repeated a few times, the echo of her voice pleasing her. diesel's tongue lolled out in a dumb smile.

the only kinda weird thing, now that she thought about it, was that she needed move closer to the river than before to get a good, full sniff of that pack scent. but that probably wasn't anything.